


Touch

by Jarakrisafis



Series: DA Short Prompt Fills [15]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25049056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Kink meme fill: https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/80751.html?thread=335348079#cmt335348079
Series: DA Short Prompt Fills [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077689





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill: https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/80751.html?thread=335348079#cmt335348079

The Deeproads are not for the faint of heart. Or for those made for the surface. Wynne and Morrigan are sitting together, which is telling, and Alistair is so close he’s nearly in Wynne’s lap as they try to get some rest. In contrast the Dwarves are relaxed. Oghren is watching down one corridor, sharpening his axe and singing tunelessly under his breath; while Shale is a rocky statue down the other direction. The close quarters and echoing silence of the tunnels is no matter to them, unlike the effect it’s having on the humans.

Faren himself is, for once, not taking part in the shift rotation. He’s slowly brushing out what he thinks is platinum white hair underneath a layer of deeproad dust and grime, that belongs to the dwarf curled up with his head in his lap. He’d thought, when they first ran into him that he was another Ruck, a lower class dwarf who’d run from something and didn’t know how to survive in the deeproads and made the fatal mistake of eating tainted meat.

Instead he’d been perfectly sane, though he preferred to communicate with signing, the strangely mixed language cobbled together from the mining and warrior castes who sometimes need to speak silently, and from the amusements of Nobles. It is, by this point, almost a full language of it’s own, even if some symbols get mixed up between castes.

Faren’s still trying to get a name from him, but he’d put money on him being a warrior, and one who’s fought campaigns. He clearly knows how to survive alone in the deeproads which is no easy feat. He was probably cut off from his patrol. He seems to have latched onto Faren, not that is much of a surprise, of the two dwarves Oghren isn’t exactly safe for one who’s been along for a long time, what with his boisterous manner and permanently tipsy state. Also Faren was the one to offer him the chance to come with them and leave. He’d been hesitant until he’d mentioned he was a Warden, at which point the dwarf had nodded his acceptance.

He tugs out another knot and though it must be painful there’s no complaint, just a shift closer and a hand wrapping round his leg. “I can’t keep calling you dwarf.” He says, trying a different tactic than the pestering the humans were trying earlier when they tried demanding he tell them who he was.

The dwarf doesn’t answer and Faren keeps brushing, only stopping when his leg is tapped lightly. -D-U-R-A-N- is spelt out with his free hand and Faren hums, wondering why the name seems to spark a memory he can’t quite recall. “Thank you.”

He’s several tangles along before he abruptly stops. “You’re Duran Aeducan!” He knew the name was familiar, now he recalls the silver white hair of the Prince watching as he’d been dragged from the Proving Grounds. The haughty look of disapproval on the face that not too long before had been happy to acknowledge his skill, and all because he bore a brand.

The head in his lap turns away, shaking in a negative. -Outcast- He signs and it takes Faren a moment to work out the different meaning through the Caste barrier. For a Casteless that sign means one who has been marked for death by the Carta and will find no help from anyone. For a Noble it must have a meaning more akin to -Exile-.

“Ah.” He says, returning to work on the hair. He’s not sure what else there is to say. He knows how to deal with a fellow casteless. He’s learnt to deal with non Wardens when he has to act as one. He’s not quite sure how exactly he is meant to deal with a now casteless dwarf that was born a Noble and is in no state to be yelled at for something long passed. He more than likely wouldn’t know why he’s being yelled at without some prompting.

The silence returns, broken only by the echoing sounds of the deeproads and Oghren’s terrible ballad recital. He doesn’t even stop Duran from shifting ever closer, till he’s hugging a leg, his head heavy on Faren’s other thigh as he starts to braid the no longer a Noble’s hair to keep it from getting tangled again.

Some part of him wants to push him aside, tell him to get lost and good riddance. It would serve him right, the arrogant deeplord that he surely is. The other part of him knows that after being exiled alone; he’s likely been punished enough. Faren doesn’t have the willpower to disentangle him when he’s finished, just urging the sleepy dwarf to at least move from between his legs before parts of Faren get entirely the wrong idea. Duran happily shifts, curling himself round Faren and clutching at him as he shifts back into sleep. 

“What is It doing?”

Faren opens an eye to look at Shale as the golem adds a little more of their small supply of smokeless coal onto the fire to ensure it doesn’t go out.

“It is cuddling.” He says, closing his eyes again, ignoring the disgusted rocky noise Shale makes before stamping off. He’s not even going to try to explain it to the golem, not until he’s worked out what’s going on himself. And that may take a little while. It’s probably a good thing they’ve still got a long way to go, lots of time to sort things out.


End file.
